


Being Rescued is a Terrible Birthday Present

by SpicedGold



Series: The Nara Family [28]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Gen, Happy birthday Shikadai, Real boys need hugs from their mothers, Talking about feelings is a drag, Temari doesn't care if your ego is bruised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: Shikadai thought growing up meant he wouldn’t be in these situations anymore.You know, the one where he needs to be saved by his mother.
Relationships: Nara Shikadai & Nara Shikamaru & Temari, Nara Shikadai & Temari, Nara Shikamaru/Temari
Series: The Nara Family [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1160966
Comments: 15
Kudos: 172





	Being Rescued is a Terrible Birthday Present

**Author's Note:**

> I finished writing this approximately one hour before uploading it, so it's probably bad, but I didn't want to miss Shikadai's birthday. Happy birthday mini Nara.

Shikadai was having the worst birthday.

Drawing a mission wasn’t the problem. That was expected. After all, it was his job, and the world didn’t grind to a halt on the anniversary of his birth.

The problem had been his briefing underestimating the danger, the mission going to shit, him getting his ass kicked, almost failing the entire the thing, and needing to be rescued.

By his mother.

“It’s not fair,” Shikadai whined, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, safely home, while Shikamaru checked him over for any severe injuries. He had taken a bit of a beating, but had returned home with the most severe injury being his very, very bruised ego. “They could have sent literally anyone else to come and help.”

“Can you move those fingers?” Shikamaru asked, not overly concerned about his son’s constant whining.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Shikadai wiggled his fingers. “Told you, it’s just bruising.”

“Okay. Take a shower, and then we can sit down and have some tea.”

“But why did it have to be Mom?” Shikadai continued, grumpily fighting his way out of his shirt. “There were tons of other Jounin off today – I checked the roster.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t a purposeful attack on your ego.”

“It feels like one,” Shikadai threw his shirt on the floor. “Ugh, this isn’t meant to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Shikamaru asked, halfway out the bathroom door.

“I’m a Chuunin now,” Shikadai said grumpily. “And Chuunin shouldn’t need to be rescued.”

Shikamaru opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a distant cackle from Temari, and he sighed. She could be a bit less obvious that she was listening in on them. He tried to placate Shikadai, “Even Chuunin need help sometimes.”

“Moegi wasn’t working today,” Shikadai continued, well entrenched in his sulk. “Literally anyone else could have come.”

“A shower will calm you down.”

“Everyone’s going to laugh at me, because I had to get saved _by my mom_!”

Shikamaru thought it wise to close the door and leave Shikadai to finish his rant alone.

He wandered to the kitchen to find Temari. She was filling the kettle with water, and smirked over her shoulder at him.

“Kid’s upset,” Shikamaru said.

“He’s overreacting.” Temari’s smirk turned into a self-satisfied grin. “He’s fine, Shikamaru, he’s just a teenaged boy with his shattered masculinity.”

“Did you embarrass him?”

“Probably.”

“Tem,” he sighed wearily.

“What? He needs to learn to deal with things like that. Anyway, I didn’t do anything except my job. It’s not my fault he’s taking it personally.”

“He seems more upset than usual.” Shikadai was generally laid back about missions and mistakes, and it had been unusual to see him grumbling about Temari’s presence. Shikamaru was concerned. Something about his son wasn’t quite right.

“He’s fine,” Temari said airily.

“I don’t think he is.” It was odd behaviour.

“Then talk to him and figure it out,” Temari replied with a shrug. “Do you want tea or coffee?”

“Coffee.” Shikamaru glanced at the door. “Did you do anything to upset him?”

“I just kicked some ass and asked if he was alright,” Temari grabbed three mugs from the cupboard. “Chocho and Inojin were okay, too. So he can’t be worried over them.”

“Hm.” He waited, uncertain of what else to say, until Shikadai came stomping into the kitchen with his expression dour.

“Want some tea, kid?” Temari asked.

“No,” Shikadai frowned, voice bordering on snappish.

Temari turned to face him, crossing her arms. “Want to adjust your tone?”

Shikadai glared at her, and she returned the expression with a narrowing of her eyes. It was a warning, and Shikadai knew it. But he was in a foul mood, and not thinking straight, and so he just huffed a breath out the side of his mouth.

Shikamaru watched him, curious at his boldness and clear irritation.

“Why are you acting like a brat?” Temari asked, always to the point.

Shikadai shoved his hands in his pockets. “You.”

“What did I do?” She didn’t sound as sharp as Shikamaru thought she would.

Shikadai’s cheeks flushed pink, though, and he answered with an irritated growl, “You called me a _baby!_ In front of _everyone!_ ”

“It was your team and three unconscious people,” Temari rolled her eyes. “And I didn’t call you _a_ baby, I called you _my_ baby.”

Shikamaru snorted. “That makes it better.”

“I’m not a baby!”

Temari raised an eyebrow. “You sound like one.”

“Ugh,” Shikadai clenched his hands into fists. “Forget it.” He stormed out of the kitchen, and they heard his bedroom door slam.

“Something’s bothering him,” Shikamaru said.

“He’s fine,” Temari replied.

“No, he’s not. When does he ever get that reactive about things? Something else is the real problem.”

“Well, he’s not talking to me, so you better figure it out,” Temari shrugged, leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

With a sigh, Shikamaru turned and followed his son.

Shikadai was sitting in a grumpy huddle on his bed, glaring at the floor, and he didn’t look up when Shikamaru sat down next to him.

“Hey, kid,” Shikamaru said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Shikadai muttered dully.

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes, studying Shikadai carefully. After a pause, he spoke, “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. But I know something’s the matter, because you never overreact like that.”

Shikadai turned his face away slightly.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Shikamaru asked gently.

Shikadai heaved a sigh.

“People have been talking,” he started softly, fingers digging into the blankets. “About me. About how I shouldn’t have been promoted.”

Shikamaru remained silent, waiting for Shikadai to puzzle his thoughts out.

“They said I was only given Chuunin because you work for the Hokage, and since all the villages get to weigh in, Uncle Gaara said I could as well, and they would have done Boruto too but since he cheated it would have been too obvious that you guys were playing favourites.”

“Do you think we were?”

“Maybe. I dunno.” He heaved one shoulder up in a distracted half-shrug. “’Cause, you know, I’m not actually good enough to be Chuunin. That’s what they say. That I shouldn’t have been promoted, and you only did it because I’m your son, and not because I’m anything special.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

Shikadai hesitated. “Maybe . . . They might be right about me. Might not be good enough.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I mean, I gave up an exam fight, so yeah, maybe. And then when I’m actually leading a mission, Mom has to come in and save me,” Shikadai shook his head. “And that’s just pathetic. Can you imagine doing stuff like that?”

“It’s a stretch, but I think I can follow your feelings.” Shikamaru put his arm around Shikadai’s shoulders. “You’re doubting yourself, and then when you fail at something, you think maybe all that doubt was right.”

“I just wanted to prove I was ready. And I was good enough. And the things people were saying about me were wrong.” He sniffed. “Guess not. I’m not ready. I’m not good enough. Maybe I am still just a baby.” He clenched his jaw slightly.

“Do you think I’d give you harder and more dangerous missions if you weren’t ready for them?” Shikamaru asked. “Do you think I’d put you into unnecessary danger?”

Shikadai shrugged miserably. “I dunno, maybe you think I’m better than I am . . . Mom clearly doesn’t.”

“She thinks you’re doing well. She’s very proud of you.”

“No, she isn’t,” Shikadai muttered. “She thinks I can’t manage anything on my own. Everyone’s right about me, and I shouldn’t have been promoted.”

“Do you really believe what they say?”

“I don’t believe _them_ ,” Shikadai said emphatically, “But I believe Mom.”

He glanced at Shikamaru, then darted his gaze away again. He let out a tense breath. “Mom thinks I’m still a baby.”

“You know she didn’t mean it like that, right?” Shikamaru asked.

“I know. Not that . . .” Shikadai hesitated. “I mean that she doesn’t think I can handle things on my own. That I still need her help all the time.”

That was what had Shikadai in such a huff? Shikamaru almost chuckled. “She doesn’t think that.”

“Then why does she nag me in training all the time – like I’m never good enough for her – and why did she just step in and fix everything when I could have figured it out if I had a bit more time? She’s always pushing me in training, and I’m never doing well enough for her, and she doesn’t think I should be Chuunin either.” Shikadai finished with a mutter, “She’s never happy with me.”

“It might seem that way, but she’s very happy with how you’re doing,” Shikamaru assured.

“No, she’s not,” Shikadai pulled out of Shikamaru’s hold. “Just forget about it; I don’t care.”

 _I think you do_ , Shikamaru thought. He stood up, though, figuring Shikadai needed the time to cool off and think. “Are you going to come and sit with us for tea?”

“Might come later,” Shikadai murmured. He kept his face away from Shikamaru.

Shikamaru left his room, and Shikadai checked his phone, thinking maybe he should see if Inojin wanted to meet up earlier for their planned ‘birthday dinner’ with Boruto and their other friends. There was a message from Shinki, reading, in his usual to the point and impersonal manner, _Happy Birthday_.

Shikadai sent back an equally to the point _Thanks_ , asked Inojin if he was busy, and flung himself dramatically onto his bed to stare at the ceiling and pout.

Temari had made him coffee, and was sitting on the couch looking very relaxed and laidback with her legs tucked up underneath her.

Shikamaru sat in the armchair. “He’s unhappy because everyone says he’s not good enough for what he’s doing. And then he needed help.”

“Told you it was just a smack to the ego,” Temari replied, cocking an eyebrow.

“It’s a bit more than that. He’s very upset.”

“What other people think shouldn’t matter to him.”

“It doesn’t,” Shikamaru said. “Not as much as what you think.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t pin this on me. I’m not the reason he’s sulking.”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m saying he thinks you don’t think he’s capable.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because you swooped in to rescue him, and called him a baby.”

“So you _are_ blaming me?”

“No,” Shikamaru rubbed a hand wearily across his eyes. “Woman, try to listen to me. He’s feeling that he’s not good enough. And he thinks you believe that, too. _That’s_ what’s upset him. Your lack of faith in his abilities.”

“Lack of faith?” Temari echoed. “Where does he get ideas like that from? He’s doing exceptionally well – he’s always been above average, he outclasses the rest of his team, he’s leagues ahead of where you were at that age.”

Shikamaru sent her a look, but didn’t contradict her.

“That kid’s doing far more than anyone would expect of him. He gets missions with a risk factor because he’s capable, and because he can puzzle things out. He was just a little out of his depth today, that’s all. Doesn’t make him any less capable.”

“Have you told him that?” Shikamaru asked.

“No.” Temari looked taken aback. “He knows.”

“How would he know you’re proud of him if you never tell him?” Shikamaru stared at her. “How is he meant to know you think he’s doing well if all you do is nag him in training to be better, and swoop in like a knight in shining armour the moment he runs into trouble?”

“I don’t nag him because he’s falling behind in training,” Temari said.

Shikamaru waited.

Temari’s tone softened. “I nag him because he’s got so much potential and I want him to do something with it. He’s my kid, and I want to show him off. One day he’s going to match you and me in ability, and I can’t wait for that day to come. I get after him in training because I know he can handle it, and I know he’s going to keep improving.”

“He thinks that you do it because you’re never satisfied with him.”

“Why would he think that?”

Shikamaru sat back a bit, and studied her steadily. “Because when you jump in, you take over. You walk around like you own the world, and I love that about you, but it means that everyone around you feels inferior.” He looked at her seriously. “That includes Shikadai.”

“He’s smarter than that. He knows better.”

“Tell him,” Shikamaru emphasized. “Tell him what you think about him. Tell him why you push him all the time. ‘Genius’ doesn’t mean ‘mind reader’.”

Temari regarded him coolly, clearly weighing up the idea of arguing further or listening to him. She dropped the subject for now, and they sat in companiable silence for a while.

Shikadai came silently into the room. “Inojin and I are meeting early for dinner, so I’ll be going out now.”

“Your uncles are calling this evening, so don’t be late,” Temari reminded him.

“Yeah, okay.” He turned to leave.

“Have fun,” Shikamaru added.

“Yeah, whatever,” Shikadai responded dully. He left the house without saying anything else, hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

“If this is what he’s going to be like as a teenager,” Temari remarked. “I’m going to kick his ass a lot more.”

Dinner with his friends was nice, but Shikadai was still nursing his bruised ego and rampant irritation at his mother. It didn’t help that Inojin had to leave early to spend time with his family, but Shikadai couldn’t be mad at him for that. It wasn’t only his birthday today.

He wandered home lost in thought, absently counting the steps from one streetlight to the next.

He kicked at a pebble on the street, watched it skitter away.

 _Why am I even mad?_ He wondered. Because of things other people were saying about him? He had never cared what other people thought before. So why now was he dwelling on people who meant nothing?

 _Because you think Mom’s one of them_ , his mind provided. _You think you’re growing up and she thinks you’re not._

He went into the house through his bedroom window. He knew both parents would be aware he was there, but this way he didn’t have to talk to them, while he flopped on his bed and puzzled over his own shortcomings, and wondered why his mother had to step in all the time.

His phone buzzing in his pocket startled him back to reality, and he considered ignoring the call. No point to it, Kankuro would just phone Temari next, and then Shikadai would get yet another lecture.

He answered, trying not to sound too snippy, “Hey, Uncle Kankuro.”

“Hey, mini shadow. Happy birthday.” Kankuro sounded cheerful.

“Thanks.”

“How’s it feel to be one year older?”

“Like nothing’s changed.” _Mom still thinks I’m a baby and a useless shinobi._

“You don’t sound so happy?” The cheeriness dropped instantly to quiet curiosity. “Everything okay?”

“Mom thinks I’m a baby,” he muttered.

Kankuro chuckled, and Shikadai rolled his eyes. He needed sympathy, not amusement. “Kid, she doesn’t think that.”

“She called me a baby, on a mission.”

“You’re mad about that? Have you heard what she calls your father?”

“Yeah, but Dad doesn’t care,” Shikadai rolled onto his side, muffling an irritated groan in his pillow. “I just . . . Geez, I’m not a kid anymore, I just want her to realize that.”

“Alright, alright,” Kankuro’s voice still shuddered with mirth. “Tell me what happened.”

“I had a mission this morning. We got into some trouble, and I was just keeping Inojin and Chocho protected while I figured out how to beat these guys, and before I had a chance to make a plan, Mom flies in and just kicks all their asses. And then called me a baby.”

“Sounds rough. Let me ask you – are you really upset about what she called you?”

Shikadai fell silent then. He took a moment to think, to really think. Hesitatingly, he answered, “No, not really.”

“So why are you upset?”

“Because I’m getting older and don’t need to be protected so much. She doesn’t notice that. Still treats me like a kid.”

“Or, and hear me out, she steps in to help you when she can because watching you suffer isn’t easy for her.”

Shikadai hadn’t thought of that. Not from her side of things. “But . . . but that’s part of being a ninja. I might get hurt.”

“You might, yes. And she _might_ just do her best to prevent it. And she _might_ spare you as much pain as possible. And she _might_ want to see you succeed, and that’s much easier when you haven’t been constantly beaten down.”

Shikadai rolled onto his back again. “. . . I feel like she’s just patronizing me.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No.”

“Then do it.” Kankuro’s voice turned warm again. “Come on, Shikadai, she’s not good with feelings. You need to help her out and make things clear. Talk to her. Not right now – Gaara’s about to take the phone from me – but after this call. Tell her you need more independence. But nicely.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, even though Kankuro couldn’t see it. “I’ll talk to her later.”

“Good. Now, what did you get for your birthday?”

“Got some games. There were a few new ones I needed. Also, Chocho baked me cookies. And Mirai’s taking me out somewhere later in the week – she says it’s a surprise and won’t tell me where.” Shikadai relaxed a bit.

“And your friends?”

“We went out for an early dinner. Inojin had to be home to spend time with his mom. But Boruto and I played games for a bit before I had to come home.” It was easier talking to Kankuro. Shikadai felt a bit calmer, his head cleared a little.

They chatted idly for a few more minutes before Gaara took over the conversation, and by the time Shinki had commandeered the phone for a brief, stilted chat, Shikadai had formulated his plan and readied himself to try to talk about his feelings.

Growing up sucked.

Shikadai hesitated in the back doorway.

He drew in a tense breath, wondering at how to begin the conversation he needed to have.

Temari was sitting on the back porch with Shikamaru, talking in low voices, while he smoked and she sewed up the shirt Shikadai had ripped last week in training. He hated interrupting them in moments like these, because they always felt so personal and private, like he didn’t belong between them.

He wandered outside, bare feet near silent on the wooden boards.

Shikamaru glanced over his shoulder at him, and gave him an encouraging smile.

He sat down next to Temari, looking contritely at his knees. “Hey, Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?”

“Go ahead.”

He let out a breath, taking his time to plan things. “Okay, um . . . So, people have been saying I’m not good enough for Chuunin, and I was trying to prove to myself that they were wrong, but when I needed help today I kinda believed them, and thought maybe I wasn’t ready. Also you always make me feel like I’m not ready. Like . . . Chuunin don’t get rescued and I shouldn’t need help anymore.” He grimaced. “I’m meant to be better than that.”

“Needing help doesn’t reflect on your abilities,” Temari said, keeping her eyes down, and Shikadai was grateful for that. “Jounin need backup, too. Anbu need assistance. Even a Kage might need intervention from other shinobi.”

“Okay, but –“

“And,” Temari continued over him, “You weren’t ready, clearly.”

He sighed.

“Not for today. You’re ready for a lot of things, though. That’s why you get the missions.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. But I shouldn’t need you so much. I can do things myself.”

“Did you think Inojin and Chocho weren’t ready for the mission today?”

“No?”

“Did you think they shouldn’t have been out there with you?”

“No?”

Temari finally looked at him. “Then why did you try so hard to protect them, if they could have done the job themselves?”

“I didn’t want them to get hurt,” he answered.

“Why not? They can take it.”

“Yeah, they can, but I don’t want them to get hurt, because they’re my friends and – oh,” he paused. “Oh.”

Temari patted his shoulder absently.

“You don’t protect me because you think I can’t do things,” he realized. “It’s because you want me to be safe.”

Temari smiled at him. “Shikadai, whether you like it or not, you’re always going to be my child. And I’m always going to protect you. Not because you can’t protect yourself, but because I can be there for you. Because I want to see you grow up safely, and I want to see you grow with fewer hardships than I had.”

He swallowed hard. “I feel like I’m failing at everything.”

“Do you think I’d allow that?” She put the shirt aside, shifting a bit to face him more head on.

Tentatively, he looked up and met her eyes. “. . . Do you really think I’m still just a baby who can’t do anything?”

“Shikadai,” Temari said patiently. “You know you’re growing up. Far too fast. You know you’re not a baby. So what exactly is bothering you?”

He exhaled loudly. “Am I good enough for you?”

For a few tense moments, Temari just stared at him. Just studied him, and Shikadai squirmed a bit in place. Then she glanced at Shikamaru, who returned her gaze with a slightly raised eyebrow. It was another of those moments Shikadai felt he shouldn’t be there for. Because they had just had a whole conversation right in front of him with a glance and without a word. He wondered what he had missed.

Temari turned back to him. “You’re always going to be my baby. Deal with it. But . . .” She trailed off again. After a moment of gathering her thoughts, she added, “Shikadai, you exceed my expectations every day. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

He couldn’t help his jaw almost dropping in surprise. “What?”

“There’s potential in you. A lot of it. And I want to see it used properly. You’re lazy,” she said bluntly, and Shikadai couldn’t disagree. “So sometimes you need an extra kick to get motivated. That’s all I’m trying to do. If we left it to him,” she jerked her head slightly at Shikamaru, “You’d be spending every day sitting on your lazy butt and watching clouds.”

“I train him,” Shikamaru protested indignantly.

“When I tell you to,” Temari reprimanded firmly. She turned her attention back to Shikadai. “So, yes, I’m going to push you. Because the more I do now, the harder you work in training, the more experience you gain safely, the less likely it is that you’ll ever get badly hurt.”

Shikadai nodded slowly.

“The world gets harder as you get older,” Temari told him. “I’m not going to sit by and watch it try to break you, when I can stop it. Got it?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I get it.”

He was about to stand up and go back to his room when he hesitated. “Um, Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . .” He let out a sigh, cheeks flushing pink again. “Thanks. For saving me this morning.”

She smiled at him. “Any time, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I like.” She picked up the shirt again. “Get some sleep.”

Shikadai stood up. “Okay.”

Once he was inside again, Shikamaru snorted softly. “You realize you’ve shredded his ego twice today? Once picking him up out the dirt, and now when he had to come and tell you how he was feeling?”

“He did it, though,” Temari said. “He looked past his pride and actually told me what the problem was.”

“He’s growing up,” Shikamaru pointed out. “And maturing.”

“Much faster than you.”

He hummed agreeably. “He’s got you to help him.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, before feeling Shikadai’s presence in the doorway once more.

“Yes?” Temari asked, without looking at him.

Shikadai cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I, uh . . . Well.” He trailed off, and Temari could hear him shifting his weight from foot to foot. Finally, he blurted out, “I know I’m not a baby anymore, but I didn’t get my birthday hug from you yet.”

Temari stood up and turned to him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh? Chuunin need hugs now, too?”

“Mom,” he mumbled. “Don’t tease me.”

Temari snickered, but opened her arms. “Come here.”

Before his embarrassment took over, Shikadai darted towards her, burying his face against her and squeezing her tight. He grumbled when he felt her press a kiss to the top of his head.

“No kisses,” he protested, only to be grabbed tighter and kissed again. “Mom, _no!_ ”

Shikadai fought out of her grasp. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m going to bed.”

“Good night,” Temari said warmly, and Shikamaru waved vaguely.

“Night,” Shikadai muttered, rubbing at the top of his head.

“I didn’t get a hug for my birthday,” Shikamaru commented, once he was certain Shikadai was out of earshot.

“You got awesome sex,” Temari replied.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Not my fault you slept through it.”

He grinned at her, holding out a hand to silently ask to be pulled to his feet. “Then show me what we did.”

Shikadai lay in the darkness, musing over the day. There was a streak of moonlight across his ceiling, and the leaves of the tree outside made dappled patterns in it. Next to him, his phone buzzed again.

 _How was the rest of your birthday?_ Inojin asked. _Are you still mad at your mom?_

 _No_ , he replied. _We talked. It’s fine now._

He understood Temari a bit better, and she was happy with him. She was _happy_ with him, and the notion made his chest feel warm and light. He smiled to himself.

Shikadai was having the best birthday ever.


End file.
